Itoshii otoko no ko
by subgirl
Summary: Sango is left alone with a small fire and a poisoned Miroku, who does not seem to be as incapacitated as he initially says... [Miroku x Sango]


PRELIMINARY NOTES: This is set between chapters 358 and 359 of the manga, and after the final episode of the anime (167). There are spoilers contained therein but nothing completely major as long as you know what goes down in chapter 292 / episode 132. Rating is for Inuyasha's tendency toward coarse language as well as SUPER-SEXY innuendo. Glossary is located at the end for terms you may not be familiar with.

MONSIEUR CATEGORIE: Miroku x Sango and obligatory Inuyasha x Kagome.

HERR DISKLAIMER: Obviously I don't own the characters. Nope. I owned a cookie once though. It was deelishus.

- - -

ITOSHII OTOKO NO KO

_A short work of fan-written fiction in terms of Inuyasha_

_- - -_

The sky is painted orange and purple, intertwining and mingling with stretchy bolts of clouds, broken occasionally by the silhouette of a distant mountain or grove of trees. It isn't very cold in particular, so the fire is more for the purpose of light than any real source of heat. It is a small fire, orange and yellow, situated at the very edge of a copse overlooking an open field. Comforting though it is, it is a danger and will need to be extinguished after the orange gives way completely to the purples and velvet blues of night.

Comfort is an important part of life lately; too many allies fall too close and too soon. All parts of the group of five find ways to comfort themselves: in each other, in sleep, in thought, in avoidance of thought. The fire is a comfort they all share together, and it burns quietly in the thick air of nightfall, doling out comfort while simultaneously casting shadows.

Orange and yellow dance on Sango's eyes and she is entranced by the comfort.

"Sango-chan," Kagome says, touching the older girl on the shoulder.

"Mm? Yes, Kagome-chan?" she says, tearing her eyes from the fire.

Kagome smiles, though she looks tired. "Inuyasha and I are going to get water," she says, holding up the strange water jug made of stiff material. It is generally a clear container, but now it catches the fire and reflects yellows and whites, causing Sango's eyes to avert. "Look after Shippou-chan."

"Of course," Sango says, attempting a smile. She looks to the young kitsune, curled up in the curve of Kirara near the fire. The youkai cat has her own fire; she is sleeping in her battle form for protection, even though the distinct lack of _jyaki_ makes it unnecessary, if not paranoid.

Her eyes move to the form resting against a tree; Miroku has exhausted himself by moving too much too soon without allowing the poison from the saimyoushou to work through his system. They should have waited longer before trying to search for the antidote, which did not seem to have much of a medicinal quality after all. Her hand still itches from the bewitched mosquito's bite; its so-called antidote to cure all did not even cure the itching.

Miroku stirs, brow furrowing in his feverish sleep. Sango's breath catches when she feels Kagome's hand squeeze her shoulder.

"He'll be okay, Sango-chan," the girl murmurs quietly. "He always is."

"No, I know," Sango says, shaking her head. "I know."

Kagome's hand leaves and Sango can hear her footsteps moving away to where Inuyasha waits for her. Kagome's shoes are always a source of fascination to Sango, because they seem expensive and the stitching is completely without error, but Kagome does not seem like a rich girl. Kagome's status is also something Sango puzzles about, because although she is well educated (Sango can only read and write phonetically, while Kagome seems to be on par with the near-erudite Miroku in her writing ability), she does not put on the airs that a person of high standing would.

Inuyasha, on the other hand, has no use of shoes and thus cannot be expected to indulge Sango in discussions of the economics of Kagome's land.

The orange in the sky melts to a reddish purple, staining the blue with scarlet. The fire continues yellow and orange, and Sango finds that her chin has dropped to the palms of her hands when she is shaken from her reverie by someone calling her name.

"Sango."

She looks past the fire. "Houshi-sama?" He is sitting straight now, arms hidden in the folds of his sleeves, squinting to her with fire alighting his features. His eyes are like the sky, dark blue with orange dripping into them, swirling and alive.

"Where are Kagome-sama and Inuyasha?"

"Water," Sango says thickly. She clears her throat. "They went to get water, houshi-sama."

"Ah," he says, and that is all. His eyes move to the fire and she follows suit. Sango cannot guess how long Inuyasha and Kagome have been gone, and she tries not to dwell on what they could be doing that is taking so long when there is a stream not fourteen _cho _away.

The sky turns a rich reddish purple and Sango is aware of Miroku's eyes on her. She looks up, and he is watching her with a thoughtful expression. She fidgets with the hem of her _mobakama_ because she is too busy ignoring the look he is giving her to think of anything else to do with her hands.

"Um, houshi-sama," she says hesitantly, once the silence is too uncomfortable, "how are you feeling?"

"Oh, much better," he says, still regarding her with eyes turned orange-purple in the reflection of the fire. "I owe you great thanks for going through so much trouble for me, only to have it be in vain, technically."

"Don't mention it," Sango says, scratching the back of her hand absently. That bewitched mosquito was the reason Miroku had exhausted himself; if she hadn't gone after it to find an antidote for the saimyoushou poison, Miroku wouldn't have gone after _her_ when he assumed she was in danger of being seduced. Presently he is watching her with a more intense expression, and she feels her cheeks flare. "Wh-what?"

"Come here," he says quietly, and her eyes widen.

"What did you say?"

"I said come here," he says.

"What – houshi-sama, don't be so inappropriate," Sango manages, hoping against hope that the dramatic shadows cast by the fire make it so he cannot see how brightly red her face is.

"I don't think Kagome-sama and Inuyasha will barge in on us, if that's what you're worrying about," he says with a short chuckle. The look in his eyes, filled with blue fire, is somehow drawing her closer and pushing her away all at the same time. "And Shippou and Kirara seem to be completely out for the time being."

"Houshi-sama," Sango says lowly, staring him down and attempting to force the blush to settle itself.

He sighs. "I give you my word my intentions are honourable." His hand goes over his heart; he is very serious. "I would go to you," he adds, "but I think it would be better if I stay still so as to ensure I will not pass out..."

Sango stays where she is and continues to stare. _Good_, her expression says. _You deserve to be passed out._ He sighs again and makes to get up; she does not truly want him to faint so she stands quickly and glares at him. "Fine."

He gives her a smile that she likens to an overweight cat and she stalks over to him. She sits down heavily, making sure she is an arm's length away. "Come on, Sango," he says, looking at her without turning his head from the fire. "I gave you my word, did I not?"

"You know, houshi-sama," she says dryly, "that doesn't mean very much."

His eyes move away and the whites are reflected orange and yellow. "Sango..."

"What?"

He turns to face her and his expression is not difficult to read. "You're making this complicated."

She sticks her tongue out. "Good."

For a poisoned man, Miroku moves very quickly. Before Sango can blink, he closes the space between them and is clutching her hand, inspecting it as if it is made of _kongouseki_. She is surprised but not offended, and looks curiously down. "Houshi-sama?"

"I saw you scratching where you were bitten and thought I should have a look at it," he supplies. He unloops the _tekko_ and it flops uselessly at her wrist.

"Why didn't you ask directly?" she says, eyes wandering to his hair. The light reflects sharply against it, and Sango knows without looking at the sky that it must be dark by now.

He shrugs one shoulder, turning her hand over in his.

Miroku has always been very difficult to understand, and Sango has always wondered if he made it this way on purpose. Either way must be a very hard life to lead, she decides.

It is quiet for a few moments and Sango slowly becomes aware of a strange sensation on her hand. She moves her eyes from the reflections dancing on his neatly bound hair and looks to where their hands are joined. He is moving his fingers in slow circles across her bare palm, looking down, and she feels her face swiftly turn warm. "H-houshi-sama," she chokes. She is unwilling to pull her hand away and is simultaneously wondering what in all of the hells is wrong with her.

He says nothing but his fingers continue to move, and she finds herself desperately hoping Kagome and Inuyuasha would return, or Shippou would wake up, or some rampaging youkai would attack, or she would be struck dead, or...

Her heart stops when he lifts her hand and inserts a finger into his mouth.

"H-hou-houshi-sama!" she tries to shriek, but it comes out more in terms of a squeaking whisper. She flushes hotly and becomes absorbed in the look on his face. His eyes are closed and he seems deathly serious; her blush deepens when he shifts and slides another finger past his lips. Meanwhile, she is incredibly disturbed that she is nowhere near being inclined to bash his head against the tree or beat him into the ground. Of course, she thinks frantically, there is the possibility that this could be a medicinal practise, but the way his tongue is moving across the fleshy pads of her fingertips quickly squashes the notion.

The blush spreads across the entire surface of her skin and she is terrified that if she moves or says something, it will all go wrong. She isn't quite sure what "wrong" entails – his stopping and thinking her too chaste for this, or his convincing her that she is too frustratingly chaste _not_ to do this – but she is paralysed nonetheless. He shifts again and kisses her fingertips, eyes still closed.

After some difficulty, she finds her voice, though it is very shaky and unable to raise itself above a hoarse whisper. She tilts her head toward him and tries to catch his eyes. "Houshi-sama ... I ... why is he ..."

Sango begins to suspect that he was being dramatic when he said he might faint if he stood; again Miroku moves quickly, pushing her back against the tree. His mouth presses against her jaw and he remains uncharacteristically silent. Her heart flutters and her eyes move involuntarily shut, snapping open a second later when she realises that the way his arms are levelled makes it impossible for her to free herself. She squirms and is suddenly struck with great alarm not even the ministrations of his tongue against her skin can alleviate.

"Houshi-sama, stop – stop, stop," she says, hiking up her knees in attempts to knock him away.

He does stop, and the gaze he fixes her with is glossed over with something she feels sudden disgust in wondering over. "What's wrong?" he says thickly. He stopped, but he is not moving; his arms are still pressed against her and he is still too close, far too close.

"Get-get away," she says, struggling. "You can't make me do this."

Slowly, realisation settles across his features, replacing the confusion and the thing-which-she-refuses-to-recognise. He knows what she is saying but not saying and she feels mildly ashamed for suggesting it, until his expression takes on a dangerous edge. "I can," he says, voice low. "And I will."

Sango's heart is lodged in her throat.

"You _did_ agree to be my wife," he answers her voiceless question, shifting so he is kneeling before her, arms still holding her firmly to the tree. "For you to be my wife would mean that I can make you."

She feels cold and horrified, noticing that his eyes, now that he is not facing the fire, are no longer reflecting steep points of orange and yellow. They are dark and shadowed, and she averts her gaze. She curses him quietly and is disappointed to feel tears squeezing out from the corners of her eyes.

To her surprise, Miroku releases her partway, right hand brushing away her tears before they fall. She looks at him hesitantly, and even more surprisingly he is smiling in a very genuine way. "I... I don't understand..."

"Do you have so little faith in me?" he says, voice kind again. He is smiling and Sango is bewildered. "I know I have several less than desirable qualities, but honestly..."

"Wh-what? But... you..."

"It's also interesting, Sango," he says, "that you would rather have me take advantage of you than to no longer be my fiancée."

She balks and suddenly acquires a very bad headache. "That's not what I meant when I... I mean... what you said surprised me, so..."

"I suppose 'I will' was a bit dramatic," he says, and his eyes close halfway. Sango feels heat creep up to her cheeks again. "However, if any other woman was my fiancée, it would be very appropriate."

Somehow she finds this statement to be the antithesis of comforting, and gives him a look that says so.

Miroku chuckles and releases her other shoulder. "But then again, any other woman wouldn't be my fiancée."

"What? Why?" she says, free but unable (or unwilling, something in her head goads) to move. Her cheeks are burning by this point and it is difficult for her to think about anything other than how close he is. "I'm not special..."

"Sango is a very special woman," he says.

"No, I'm not..."

He shifts and is gone from her sight; his cheek presses to hers and she can feel him breathing against her ear. She is very self conscious about him feeling her blushing and, as a result, blushes even more. "_Itoshii onago_," he says, and she recognises that time is cyclical.

"Houshi-sama," she whispers, but he pulls away, smiling irreverently.

"Don't worry about it," he says, moving from her to lean his back against the tree. His eyes go closed and again she is reminded that he is a very confusing person. For a moment she looks at him sidelong and considers his face, played upon by the shadows of the still-burning fire. He is still smiling, and she can no longer contain herself.

Gingerly, she touches his knee and his eyes open. She regards him wordlessly, cheeks flushed, and he understands. He pulls her closer and moves his legs, accommodating her; she sits between his knees, her back to his chest. His arms cross her body, one stretching from shoulder to shoulder and the other across her stomach. The heat on her cheeks intensifies when she realises he is holding her in a way that is entirely protective, lacking in any ulterior motives.

Sango watches the fire quietly for what seems a considerable amount of time, and is suddenly struck by a revelation. "Wait, was... were you manipulating me?" she says, twisting to look at him, though her glare is not very effective because she is still blushing.

His grin broadens. "I did say my intentions were honourable, didn't I?"

"Then how do you explain what you were doing with your mouth..."

Miroku starts, averts his eyes, and looks very uncomfortable. He is quiet for too long and Sango grows impatient; she elbows him mildly in the stomach, causing him to wince.

"Well?" she says.

"Um..."

Sango sighs and turns around. "Never mind." She feels weight against the top of her head and knows he is leaning his chin on her; his arms tighten and she smiles, content.

She watches the fire for another stretch of time, noticing that it is starting to dim and that the sky has gone completely black, save for points of light scattered about like snow. Miroku's weight is eventually heavier against her, and by the way his arms are starting to loosen, she thinks he has fallen asleep. Eyeing the hand at her shoulder, she decides that she should move it before it drops to her breast and she is forced to bludgeon the houshi into consciousness.

Gently, she takes his hand into her own and holds it in her lap. He shifts against her but does not wake. Very timidly, she turns his hand over and begins tracing along the palm with her fingers; he mutters something unintelligible and clutches at her hip, and she holds her breath until she is sure he is still sleeping. When she is satisfied, her fingers continue and she leans against his chest.

"_Itoshii otoko no ko_," she whispers, tracing the words phonetically on his palm.

- - -

Not very far away, four eyes regard this scene from behind a screen of thick trees.

"See, I _told_ you if we gave them time alone, this would happen," says a feminine voice.

"Keh," her companion scoffs, "I don't see what the big fuckin' deal is."

"Of course you wouldn't," she says, rolling her eyes. Her eyes soften as they turn back to the taijiya and her fiancé. "I wish I could be held like that..."

He starts, offended and embarrassed. "You want to be held by a lecher," he says in monotone, looking at her critically.

"He's not being perverse _now_," she says, glaring as she turns to him.

"He's _always_ perverse," he shoots back; "it's his damn nature."

"Don't be so stupid," she says.

"Don't be such a jerk!"

"_You_'re the jerk!"

"Are we quite done, children?" says a masculine voice near the fire. "It's difficult to get the correct conducive atmosphere with you two squabbling over there."

"GAH!" the spies shriek, dropping to the ground.

"Ehh?! How long have you been awake, houshi-sama?!"

"E-er..."

"Long enough to plot a 'conducive atmosphere,' I think you called it?"

"No, wait. I didn't mean –"

There is a resounding _crack_ as he is struck across the face.

"Ow!"

"I'll never understand adults," Shippou says, rolling over.

Kirara growls in agreement.

- - -

END.

- - -

CULTURAL NOTES:

_Time is cyclical_ – in Eastern tradition, time repeats itself, rather than in Western where time is a straight line. It's sort of like the equivalent of saying 'déjà vu,' but in 16th century Japan, a person most likely would not know French!

_Phonetic words_ – in the Japanese language, words can be written phonetically or with Chinese characters. Women and lower-class people were generally not taught the Chinese characters (nor were some of the uppermost class, since they could just hire someone to write for them!), and in fact the phonetic characters were referred to as 'women's writing.'

- - -

GLOSSARY:

itoshii otoko no ko – 'beloved boy,' basically

itoshii onago – 'beloved girl,' basically; 'onago' is an old-style way of saying 'girl.' (Miroku refers to Sango as this in chapter 266/episode 118 when she is unconscious.)

kitsune – fox, fox youkai

youkai – demon

jyaki – evil aura, generally from a youkai

saimyoushou – Naraku's poisonous bees

houshi-sama – what Sango calls Miroku; roughly, 'lord monk'

cho – measure of distance; 14 cho is approximately one mile

mobakama – the green apron-looking thing that Sango wears

kongouseki – archaic term for diamond

tekko – the arm guards that Sango wears

houshi – monk/priest

taijiya – youkai exterminator/slayer


End file.
